


To the Elysian Plain

by HermaiaMoira



Category: Clash of the Titans (2010), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Hell, Intersex, M/M, NSFW Art, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaiaMoira/pseuds/HermaiaMoira
Summary: Draco awakes after his battle with the gorgon and finds himself in Hades. There he meets a psychopomp named Will who seems to know him. They embark on a journey together through the hellscape on a mission to save Draco's soul and secure his place in Elysium.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you beezlekn on Tumblr for your beautiful artwork! It was wonderful working with you.

“Let an old man to his death.”

He felt his body shiver. He felt his heart beating in his chest and hurting like a bird thrashing its wings against a bone cage. Soft dirt shifted under his bare legs and arms. A moment ago he had felt nothing; a sudden seizing sensation, immobilization, and then nothing. He rolled over onto his elbows and pushed himself up. He realized he had no idea how long he had been asleep.

Draco was no longer surrounded by stone pillars or fiery pits. He looked around as his eyes adjusted. He was on a path, narrow and winding through dark trees. Above them the moon was full and gleaming like a silver discus. There were no stars.

“Perseus,” he groaned, lifting to his feet.

Nothing but silence answered him. There were no birds, no insects, not even the sound of wind in the trees. When he stepped, the scratch of his sandals over the path seemed loud to his ears.

 _Where am I?_ he asked himself.

How could he have gotten here; a place so different from where he came? He tried to remember his last conscious moments. From the void of black in his mind materialized the gorgon. She hissed, and the snakes surrounding her face followed suit. Had Perseus struck her down and spared him?

He studied the trees lining the walkway. At first he thought that it must be too dark to see, but the moon was bright so that it lit the rocks on the path. He could even make out the color of his sandals. No, these trees were black as ebony. They were twisting cypress, pointed as spears toward the vacant purple sky.

He still felt weak and tired, but he walked on, squinting to see into the forest around him. Nothing. The path was narrow indeed, so that if he spread both arms from his sides, his fingertips could graze the strange foliage of the cypresses with each hand. His nose twitched as he smelled the air. Even scent could give him no hints. After he had walked for an indeterminate length, he saw that the path opened up to a clearing. He strode faster, his feet crunching like a metronome for his pace. As his breathing grew louder, his own sounds were like a vacuum around him; the only evidence that he hadn’t gone deaf.

The sentry of trees broke, and he found himself at a three-way crossroad. The moon was nearly as illuminating as mid-day sun. In the center was a wooden post with signs marked in script so old and scratched that he couldn’t even decipher them. A lamp adorned the top, but it was extinguished.

He looked around and cleared his throat. Even that soft vocalization was a shock in the vacuum and he felt for a moment that it had endangered him. Something, surely, must lurk beyond his view. No response came from any intersecting path or the forests that seemed to stretch on infinitely.

Draco was thoroughly unnerved, but his weakness and fatigue overwhelmed him. He sat on the ground at the base of the signpost and fished through his provisions. He found a wrapped hunk of cured meat and opened it, only to find it had gone quite rancid. The smell of it was as shocking as his voice had been when it permeated the empty air.

How was this possible? Even his scrap of flatbread was stale and spotted with mold. He held open his pack and let the spoiled food fall onto the ground. He had never felt so hungry in his life, but nothing there was remotely edible. His back slumped and he fell over.

When his eyes opened again he thought he’d finally heard something: an eerie, mournful sound like howling wind. He realized that it was the baying of a dog. Soon came crunching feet and snuffling. He felt hot breath near his ankles and a wet nose.

Draco lifted his head to find the dog sniffing and rooting through the foul meat.

“That’s rotten,” he whispered to him and the dog lifted his eyes almost as though she understood, but continued to dig and chew.

“She prefers it that way,” a voice answered.

Draco shot up to a sitting position. A young man stood a yard away in a white tunic, bow at his back, and hunting sandals with straps that braided around his calves. His hair was black and the moonlight filtered through his wreath of curls like a halo. He had a chaplet of beads on his head.

Draco struggled to his feet as the man approached. He clutched his skull when he felt a dizzy rush. His eyes met the other’s, which were blue and green and curiously inscrutable. The young man did not drop his gaze at him, only cocked his head inquisitively as he reach his hand into his own pack and pulled out a pomegranate. He offered it to Draco, who took it gratefully and pulled it apart. As he dug out the seeds and popped them into his mouth, the juice spilled over his fingers and stained them red. He paused to stare, and then swallowed as a sinking feeling pervaded his gut.

“Where am I?”

“Do you not know?” the stranger answered with furrowed brow.

“I suppose I should have. None look upon the face of the gorgon and live.”

He studied the young man. He noticed a large key hanging around his neck.

“Who are you?”

“A lost soul, like you,” he answered. “My name is Will.”

“I am Draco.”

Will drew closer. He had a questioning look on his face, as though he was confused. His eyes darted over Draco’s and then he seemed to be hit with a sudden realization that the warrior didn’t quite understand. Draco saw his fingers spread as though wanting to reach out, but they clenched. He was ready to draw his sword, not sure of the young man’s intentions, and intimidated by his odd behavior and silence. There appeared to be no weapon aside from the bow on his person, and judging by his shorter stature and slighter frame, not much of a threat to a seasoned fighter.

“You have been cursed to wander the black grove,” Will finally told him. “You spat in the face of the gods, and yet…”

A small smile crept at the corner of his lips.

“You have managed to win their favor through your bravery. That is why you are not banished to the torture fields.”

“Is there any way out of this forest?” Draco asked.

“There would not have been. The path would wind eternally for you. I have the key.”

“You are a psychopomp?”

Will paused and answered, “Yes.”

“Perhaps you might be willing to guide me from this realm?”

“If you leave the underworld,” Will informed him, “You will only be a ghost. You will wander the world above, alone.”

His dog finished her meal and trotted back to her master’s side. Will crouched and pet her.

“I can take you to speak to Hades. Perhaps he will grant you admission to Elysium and the Fortunate Isles. There you will be reincarnated.”

“I am no fortunate,” Draco snorted, “And I am far from pious.”

“The journey to Elysium through the Eastern Realms is arduous. Only the most courageous and stalwart can persevere. He may find favor with you.”

Draco nodded.

“Then again,” the psychopomp mused, “He may find your request insolent and banish you to a place far more unpleasant than this.”

Draco looked around at the lonely woods. There were no voices, no food to eat, no animals to hunt.

“I cannot stay here,” he decided. “If you show me the way, I will appeal to Hades.”

Will stood. He looked very satisfied.

“Then we will be off.”

He turned to walk along the path with dog at heel. Draco followed. They didn’t walk long before Will’s key began to glow and the trees shivered as the space between them seemed to glimmer like a mirage on the horizon. They passed through to an open area and immediately Draco could hear the wailing of wind and feel it on his face.

They left the edge of trees behind them, and before them stretched a flat, ashen plain. It seemed to reach out forever. Occasionally, a flurry of black smoke moved in the distance. The emptiness knocked the breath out of Draco’s lungs and he realized how grateful he was to have found a guide. Being alone out here could drive a man mad.

“These are the Asphodel Meadows,” Will informed. “Straight ahead lays the Hall of Judgment. I do not advise going there at this time.”

Instead, they veered to the left and followed a path, or something somewhat like a path. It was an indent in the thick blanket of ash that made up the meadow. Tufts of jagged woody grass shot up here and there. As they walked, the ash clouded at their feet and soon they were coated to the knees.

They moved on in silence, though every now and then Will glanced over at Draco curiously. Beyond them, a burst of black smoke suddenly appeared and seemed to glide across the horizon before dissolving into the terrain. Draco watched it, able to make out a darker head and trailing wisps like a comet. It was a creature of some sort, but he couldn’t say if it was beast or bird. He turned his head forward and realized that Will was staring at him again.

“Do you not meet many people?” he asked.

“I meet countless souls.”

“You look upon me as a rare being.”

He chuckled and his eyes fell to Will’s throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow.

“What has you so fascinated?”

“I can’t be certain,” Will answered. “Your face…”

“You’ve seen me before?”

“Not… before. My memory of events that have happened is strong, but my memories of events that did not happen are more difficult to place.”

Draco halted and shot him an incredulous expression.

A sound like rustling leaves rose up nearby and Draco saw the smoke appear and then become partially corporeal. From the roiling black ash raised a set of antlers, and below it, sinewy legs and beating hooves. The stag dashed by, streaking the sky with ribbons of vapor. Its body and neck were covered in sleek black feathers.

Will nodded at the beast and said, “The ghostly deer is the only creature that can thrive on these plains.”

He gave Draco a wistful look.

“Orion hunts them.”

He smirked and then added, “Or he tries to.”

The stag extinguished in a puff.

 

 

The path routed eastward and became even more laden with soot. It was so fine, that it began to cling to Draco’s arms and clothing and he could taste it when he opened his mouth. He noticed that it seemed downy like snowflakes, rather than the coarse ash of burning wood.

“What is this strange substance?” he asked.

“It is the remains of the worldly forms of the dead,” Will answered. “They enter, are incinerated, and if they are not reincarnated, they inhabit new undying vessels for their souls.”

Draco grimaced.

“So many have wandered through here since time memoriam,” Will continued, “That their dust has blanketed the region.”

“It is hard to imagine those numbers.”

“Consider the dawn of mankind; the millions that must have lived and died before you, and the billions more that have died in another time.”

“These plains are our history,” Draco mused.

“And what a storied history it is. What a life may be lived under the knowledge of mortality.”

“And what effortlessness can be chosen,” Draco added, “When forced with the inconsequence of one’s place in time.”

Will nodded.

“What kept you from effortlessness?”

“Spite,” Draco replied.

“In spite of history?”

“To spite those who view us as mere beasts, and those who accept that role without argument.”

“You would not be a beast?”

“My soul is immortal, is it not?” Draco asked. “I see no difference between myself and the gods who believe they can judge me.”

Draco’s attention focused on a faraway terrace where throngs of people awaited their sentence.

“And they?” Will asked, “Are they above judgment as well?”

“No,” he replied. “Judgment is for those who submit to it. They earned their fate through compliance.”

The blanket underfoot thinned and gave way to solid rock ground, marbled with ruddy hue.

“We approach the torture fields,” Will told him in a hushed voice. “There is real danger here, for the demons will not hesitate to lay hold of you.”

“It would be an ambitious effort.”

Will chuckled. He watched Draco’s face as he took in the sights of the land.

“If hell does not frighten you,” he inquired, “What does?”

“The loss of myself,” the man replied. “I could not bear to be beholden to anyone else.”

“Some gods allow others to rule them.”

“Then they are not truly gods.”

Draco turned in a stiff movement, taken by the same curiosity that afflicted his companion.

“Who rules over you? Hades?”

Will dipped his head and answered, “I wander his lands, but I am not subservient to him.”

He moved on and Draco joined him in stride.

“I have powers he does not.”

“Such as?”

“I can see the mortal realm, across time. That is useful to him, but I do keep some secrets.”

“You are an oracle.”

“In a matter of speaking.”

“You communicate with him?”

Will answered, “I can hear his thoughts. He is watching you right now, in fact.”

“Surely he has better uses of his time.”

“He has all the time in the world.”

As they walked deeper into the fields they heard the anguished wails of the damned ring about them like trumpets of war. Draco spied the demons that Will mentioned herd them like cattle, clutching stragglers and dragging them back to their torment. In what looked like the ruined foundations of grand homes, he saw the devils clawing off the faces of victims and penetrating their orifices with rods.

“What earned them that punishment?” Draco asked.

“You wish to know why they deserve it?”

“I wish to know how a god chooses judgment.”

Will obliged, “Those are sexual predators. Their faces, masks of innocence to their would-be prey, are torn away. The rest… I suppose you can infer.”

He studied Draco’s pitiless expression.

“Appropriate,” the man responded.

Will raised an eyebrow at him and remarked, “You are quite the judge yourself.”

“If one is inclined by their vehement nature to cause suffering,” he explained, “It may as well be targeted at the despicable.”

“I can’t disagree,” Will said. “Not to mention, there is a kind of augmented pleasure in hurting those who hurt others.”

“Do you partake in that pleasure, Will?”

He was interrupted by a squealing like that of a pig. He turned to see that one of the demons had spotted him and was bounding toward him at great speed. Its hooves clattered on the hard ground and its hog-snout dripped blood over protruding tusks.

Draco quickly pulled his dagger out of his boot and flung it, hilt over blade, at the monster’s head. It stuck fast and he fell with a gurgle. Another squeal came from close by and Draco whirled to slash at the oncoming beast, the tip of his sword expertly slicing open its gut.

Will smiled at him, not at all unnerved by the attacks.

“Thus fall the ambitious,” he said.

Draco replaced his sword and smirked.

“Let us move quietly from here on,” the young man warned. “In numbers they are not so easily put down.”

The white dog sniffed at the viscera before them.

“Come, Bombo,” Will murmured.

Draco retrieved his dagger and slid it back into his boot.


	2. Chapter 2

They came upon a massive vestibule with ceilings held up by towering pillars. The two walked through the pillars on light feet. Will seemed to move noiselessly as a ghost, his soft soles stepping carefully on the hard marble.

“Don’t look up if your stomach is weak,” he whispered.

Draco shot him a coy look and raised his chin. Above them, strung between the pillars, mortals hung midair by ropes around their wrists. The skin of their backs was flayed open and draped over their cracked and gaping rib-cages. The light beyond the atrium shone through fleshy bat-like wings, giving them a rosy glow.

“Tell me.”

“Blood eagles,” Will answered. “Those are the wicked who eventually committed suicide to escape the earthly consequences of their misdeeds.”

“They are…” Draco murmured, “Strangely beautiful.”

Will looked at him in surprise and then smiled.

“Yes. Yes they are.”

They emerged from the pillars and found themselves at the edge of a massive chasm. Draco peered in and realized he couldn’t see the bottom, only a faint spark of very distant molten lava flowing downward in spirals along the edges. The red crackles etched like spider webs in the black liquid.

 

 

“Tartarus,” Will said. His voice was hushed, breathy. His face had grown very somber as he stared into the pit with glazed-over eyes.

“Where the Titans dwell,” Draco replied.

“Yes.”

Will’s gaze did not break and he went silent as though plagued with thought.

“I am in no danger of that fate,” Draco mentioned, eager to move on, “Far too elite for my lowly soul.”

Will backed away and shuddered off his dazed expression.

“Let us depart then.”

Draco watched as Will strode briskly away, shoulders tense. He scowled and followed.

“We must find shelter,” Will finally broke the silence.

He guided Draco toward the side of a looming mountain and into a cave entrance carved in its jagged edifice. The cavern was just large enough for two to sleep amidst the numerous massive boulders. It was not a comfortable place, but it seemed relatively safe.

“Do we risk a fire?” Draco asked.

“I don’t see why not. It’s not as though smoke is out of place here.”

The tired warrior searched the cave for any kind of tinder. When he found only one stick, he turned back in exasperation and found Will with a campfire set and packed with wood before him. Healthy flames chewed away at their fuel.

“Ah,” he muttered, “Of course.”

Will followed him with his eyes as Draco returned and found a seat. The spirit’s mouth curled up in amusement.

“I and my insufferable dependence on the laws of nature,” Draco added with a grunt as he lowered to the ground. “Don’t you ever tire of gratification without effort?”

Will’s lips parted in a wider smile.

He shook his head and said, “No.”

Draco huffed. There was a moment of silence as Will leaned back on a rock and lolled his head.

“Isn’t it a mad world the mortals belong to?”

Will’s voice had a quality of intrigue to it, as though his vague statement was not meant to be the last on the subject. The fire between them jumped and spat in satisfying crackles as shadows leapt over the cave walls. Draco prodded at it absentmindedly with his stick.

“You live in hell.”

Will chuckled and continued, “The violence you see here is by will of the gods, but it is sustainable without.”

“The mortal world is not sustainable without violence.”

“Every day waking is an act of violence,” Will explained. “Even birth and creation bursts forth with pain and destruction. The mother screams as the infant emerges, also screaming, forcing her open. The cocoon tears and falls away, the seed pod breaks and then rots, the shards of the earth shift and spew magma, even the soft rains wear away at the rock.”

“Nothing can be created out of nothing.”

Will nodded, “And nothing can grow and thrive without absorbing another.”

“There are some who live in peace,” Draco pointed out, “People who will not even kill animals to survive.”

“Still they must consume,” Will replied, “When they eat the plants of the earth, when they breathe in everything small that lives in the air.”

“It’s unavoidable.”

“In order for any mortal thing to live, something else must die.”

“I suppose if one were to stand very still, not breathe or eat…”

“Then their own life would be the one that they’ve taken.”

“By the gods’ design.”

“I don’t believe even the gods realized the brutality of their own creation. They strike as they choose. Mortals never cease striking from the moment they are born to the moment they die, trapped in a cycle of predatory compulsion.”

“It is a cruel joke,” Draco said bitterly, “The gods have given us that necessity, but if we dare to enjoy it as they do, take ownership and pride in our violence, we are punished for it.”

“There’s the heresy: to mirror the image of your creators and to love yourself for it unapologetically.”

“Oh yes, we must take lives and carve our way through the earth, but we must do so as little as possible the entire time, holding our noses and weeping.”

Draco stabbed the fire with his stick and it whined as if in pain. Despite his bitterness, he felt a deep satisfaction and pleasure from holding conversation with someone with whom he shared a certain understanding.

Will sighed, “I believe I would struggle as a mortal.”

Draco chuckled and admired Will’s tranquil face. The red glow of the burning fire brought out the blue water of his eyes.

“I imagine you’d be insufferably pious.”

“I could justify my actions,” Will considered, “But I would abhor them.”

“You would find yourself in the Fortunate Isles.”

Will sniffed a laugh and Draco stopped to peer in his eyes before correcting himself softly, “No… you wouldn’t suffer because your necessary actions repulsed you…”

Will allowed his face open and discernible to the man.

Draco continued, “You would suffer because of that very heretical joy. The one I embrace fully.”

“I can’t say for certain that I would be a heretic.”

“You would be…” Draco dragged the burned stub of his stick over the cave floor, “… a philosopher?”

Will pet Bombo’s head and she lowered to her paws and closed her eyes.

Draco’s attention perked at the sound of scampering over the rocks. He tread softly toward the entrance of the cave. Will watched in curiosity as the man ducked out. Moments later, he heard an alarming screech cut short with a squish. Bombo lifted her head for a moment, and then resumed dozing.

The man returned with a fistful of the creature he’d killed. He dropped it near the fire. The vile cone-shaped worm stopped twitching. It had six short legs, a scorpion tail, green feathers all about, and its thicker end had the mouth of a leech or lamprey.

“What, by the gods, is that thing?”

“A usurer,” Will answered.

Draco’s eyes widened.

“What, in serious?”

Will nodded, a humorous glimmer in his own eyes.

“Hades finds it amusing to turn them into parasites that plague the other souls.”

Draco looked at the pitiful thing at his feet. He paused for a moment and then asked, “Is he edible?”

Will released a sharp laugh. He winced, shrugged, and answered, “Technically.”

The plucked and skinned worm-bird sizzled over the fire, skewered through the mouth with Draco’s stick.

“It really shrinks down, doesn’t it?”

Barely a morsel of shriveled flesh clung to the skewer.

“You would have been better off going down to the river and bashing some witless person in the skull. At least the human form bears more meat.”

“If you think I’ll lose my appetite, think again,” Draco responded, picking a greasy scrap from his kill and eating it.

“I don’t think that,” Will chuckled. “Just being practical.”

“So…” Draco gestured at it and asked, “Where is he now?”

“At River Styx again; probably more than a little confused.”

The warrior chewed at the rubbery meat from the stick and watched Will imitate the imagined expression of the usurer, darting his head about in bewilderment.

“What was that?!”

Draco laughed around his bite.

“Just minding my business, leeching off the blood of the damned…” Will continued to mock, “When some gigantic demon…!”

“Hideous beast,” Draco wailed, “Ten, no… twenty feet tall!”

Will’s animated expression dissolved into an affectionate smile. He cocked his head.

“How’s the taste?”

Draco grimaced and spat a piece of gristle into the fire.

“Money lenders,” he muttered, “As useless and unsavory in the next life.”

“You’ve met a few, I see.”

“They’re everywhere.”

“Down here as well,” Will sighed. He waved away Draco’s offer for a bite.

“So nothing can truly die in Hades?”

“Only an immortal can extinguish a mortal soul. Otherwise, they just reappear and go wait in the queue again…”

“Oh, now I do feel guilty,” Draco quipped.

The young man clucked his tongue and Draco leaned forward with a lascivious flash in his eyes.

“Who has it the worst?”

The man’s offhanded voracity brought out a wicked grin from Will.

“You are a bit of a sadist, aren’t you?”

Draco returned the smile, fang-like as he chomped on the last bite. Will’s eyes turned upward in thought.

“It depends on what fears you the most, I suppose.”

“Hades does seem to love the ironically suitable punishments.”

“That he does; as much as you enjoy hearing about them.”

Draco maintained his unapologetic leer.

“Honestly, though, the gods are less antagonistic toward people who do wrong to other mortals. It is defiance and disrespect toward themselves that really sparks their imaginations for cruelty.”

“The gods? Arrogant and self-important?”

Draco lifted his eyebrows jokingly and Will tongued his cheek.

“They can hear you, even down here, you know.”

“Good.”

“You hate them, don’t you?”

“I hate anyone who thinks they can lead me by the nose.”

“Honestly,” Will continued, “I believe the worst fate is for those who are lost; who must persevere with their destiny in their own hands, nagged with a clarity of mind and a false sense of hope. Many of them struggle day by day, failing again and again.”

“So… me, then?”

Will added, “At least the damned know they have no hope and fall into a comforting vacancy.”

“I’d rather fight,” Draco sneered.

“I know.”

Will gazed at him intently and Draco looked back before shifting in faint discomfort. The psychopomp finally exhaled and leaned back against a rock. His dog was beginning to snore.

“You may find a time when you come to appreciate the gods,” he told him. “You may even wish to become one, toying with foolish mortals and doling out poetic justice.”

“They’ll never hear my prayers.”

“No,” Will’s face softened. “I don’t suppose they ever will.”

Draco lay down on his back and closed his eyes.

“Pardon me,” he said, “This foolish mortal needs sleep.”

Will nodded. He stayed upright against his rock, watching as Draco slumbered. In the night the man began to shiver and curled on his side in fetal position. Outside the cave, the wind picked up and moaned over the entrance like the lips of a bottle. The glowing embers of the fire did little to alleviate the cold.

Will moved toward Draco on hands and knees and cozied up alongside his body. He draped his arm around his waist and held him. Draco’s muscles relaxed as the warm spirit eased him deeper into sleep.

In the night, Draco dreamed. He was riding on horseback through a land he’d never seen before. It was cold. He could hear Will’s voice from his side, on another horse. Though his garb was different, he still carried a type of bow.

The two spoke of killing and violence in the same easy conversational manner; and the pleasure that could be found within. In the dream he could feel that was what they were about to do: end lives and gild their own in the process. Even in their shared experience, they took different paths in the mind.

Draco could tell that he was in a dream, for Will was not Will. He was not as self-aware. He was reticent and dour about what lay ahead, and Draco was the one speaking words of truth as to a young pupil.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco was roused by the strange sound of an insect-like clicking. The clicks evolved into glottal mewling and he pushed up on deft fingertips and reached one hand back for his sword. The embers had died, but enough swampy light invaded the cave for him to see the silhouettes of hunched humanoid figures scurrying over the rocks like polecats.

He rose to his feet and brandished his weapon. The warrior glanced about the cave for Will but found he and his familiar had gone.

“What are you?” Draco growled, and they hissed in reply.

As they drew closer he could see their gray mottled skin that sagged on their bodies. Their gaunt faces appeared to be rotting and loose flesh hung from under their bony arms. Atop their heads was flame-red hair.

“Get back!” he threatened. They only advanced, seeming to enjoy the excitement.

Draco held his sword at point and they began to flank him. He stood on guard, fully aware of the intent in their predatory strategy. One pounced at him and he sliced at it. He felt the shock of another landing on his back and digging its grimy fingers into his body. He ducked and threw it over his head, thrusting his sword into it as it fell to the ground. Immediately, another clawed at his head and shoulders. He pulled his sword from the slime-oozing creature below and thrust upward into the next attacker’s gut. He realized that there were more in the cavern than he initially observed, and they all leapt forward, yanking at his limbs and slashing at him.

He was only able to ward them off for a few moments before they dragged him down and held him there as they prepared their slimy yellow teeth for breakfast. Draco wriggled and shoved with every ounce of strength in his muscles, but they had overwhelmed him.

“Repulsive cockroaches!” he snarled.

The creatures recoiled, hissing like snakes before a burning torch.

Draco sat up. The circle of ghouls still surrounded him. They moved forward again.

“Stinking sacks of rotten meat!” he called out.

They slunk backward slowly, casting him baleful expressions. Low angry-cat whines emerged from their throats.

“I…” Draco stammered, climbing to his feet. “I’ve seen maggots burrowing in corpses more attractive than you!”

Their whines and mewls grew higher, mouths open in unnaturally wide gapes. They dropped to all fours and backed away.

“Cowards gang up on a sleeping man! Are you too weak to take me on one at a time?”

They moved to the entrance of the cave.

“You’re as worthless as Zeus without his wandering cock!”

The creatures issued one last hiss before scampering off as dogs with tails between their legs. Draco rolled his shoulders and shook his head. He leaned over to retrieve his fallen sword.

“You discovered their weakness,” a voice commented. Will stood at the mouth of the cave, arms crossed as he leaned against it.

“Cheap insults?” Draco scoffed.

“They are vain creatures.”

Bombo trotted forward to lap at the foul blood on the ground.

“How could beasts so ugly be vain?”

“Insecurity is the root of excessive pride,” Will stated. He sauntered toward Draco.

“Where did you go?”

“I was here,” Will answered casually.

“Why did you not help me?”

“You looked to be handling things well enough.”

Draco glared at him, and Will conceded, “If you are to impress Hades, I can’t have it appear that I assisted you in every obstacle.”

“Well,” Draco asked, flinging out his arms, “Have I been impressive?”

Will grinned.

“He enjoyed your jab at Zeus.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh.

“I aim to entertain.”

Will’s eyes fell to the lacerations across Draco’s arms and chest.

“You are wounded.”

“I’ve had far worse,” Draco sniffed. He saw Will’s mocking expression and added with a wince, “Stings a bit.”

“Sit down and gain your strength.”

Draco eased into seated position on a rock and Will lowered to his knees.

“I think Hades wouldn’t mind if I restored you. He prefers a vigorous battle over a weakened one.”

He opened Draco’s leather armor to his sweat-drenched tunic. He tore the fabric open, baring his skin and the bloody cuts over his torso. Draco furrowed his brow and stared back at the spirit whose fingers traced his wounds with curiosity; or perhaps admiration.

“You accused _me_ of being a sadist,” he murmured.

Will chuckled and leaned over him, overpowering him in wolf-like movement. He pressed his lips against a cut and ran his tongue over it slowly.

Draco flinched, eyes wide. He watched as his wound healed shut with the young man’s saliva as a healing balm.

“Gods…” he gasped.

Will grinned up at him with the roguishness of a gifted lover bestowing pleasure for praise. He grazed another cut in a tender, lapping kiss. Draco’s breath deepened and his chest moved as he felt a shift between his legs. Will moved to his arm, tracing his fingers over Draco’s side. The warrior was baffled by the power and strange eroticism of the process. He lay a gentle hand on Will’s curls.

“Does that feel better?” the spirit whispered, sitting back on his haunches.

Draco shivered and nodded.

“You’re very nurturing.”

“I can be.”

“And when you are not nurturing?”

Will flashed white teeth.

“Are you ready to move on?” he finally asked, climbing to his feet. “Or would you like to find another wretched sinner to eat for breakfast?”

Draco released a nervous laugh and stood.

“I’m not hungry just yet.”

They ventured out, avoiding a glimpse of Tartarus, and passed a shallower pit. Inside lay a wheel of men and women all sewn together, their skin growing attached as they created a prismatic mural resembling a staring eye. Will anticipated Draco’s question.

“These are the wicked who denied the existence of the gods altogether. They are cursed to recreate a blind sight toward the heavens.”

“Is it so blind not to feel the cold absence of their mothers and fathers?” Draco asked.

“The gods are nothing if not vain.”

Draco cocked his head toward Will and remarked, “Does that mean that the gods are insecure?”

Will smirked but declined to comment.

“If I have managed to find some favor in their eyes,” Draco observed as they moved on, “It must mean that there is a part of them that admires insurrection; or at least finds it amusing.”

“You lack the meekness of most humans,” Will replied. They drew nearer to a fortress of slate-coated mountains. “You are not obsequious, but you aren’t without any charm either.”

“Even you think I’m special,” Draco teased. His smirk gradually faded into puzzlement when he saw Will’s defensive expression.”

“I think you’re an oddity.”

Draco paused for only a moment before offering a dry laugh.

“They’re deciding whether to toy with you, or destroy you,” Will continued. He finally returned Draco’s smile. “I would advise wisdom, but it seems as though your foolhardiness might be what has gotten you this far.”

“What is life, or in this case death, without a bit of risk?”

A slowly wandering stream separated them from the mountains beyond.

“Do not touch the water,” Will instructed. “This is the river Lethe. One drop will send you into a stupor. One drink and you will forget who you are and why you are here.”

He paused to make clear the implications.

“You will lose yourself.”

They found a narrow boat near a dock with an extinguished lamp hanging from a mast. As Will approached, the lamp glowed steadily brighter until it lit the way through the foggy atmosphere. They climbed into the boat and Will took an oar and pushed off.

Along the bank of the river, mortals lay partially submerged in the muck, mushrooms sprouting from their skin and covering them like decaying logs.

“The water seeping into the soil keeps them oblivious.”

“What was their crime?”

Will chuckled as he lifted and dipped the oar through the water, “You love a good tale of the macabre. It’s not enough that they suffer, you want to hear their stories of woe.”

Draco reached out for the oar and took it from Will’s hands. The young man raised an eyebrow, but allowed Draco to insist upon being his beast of burden.

The man replied, “Suffering without context is not…”

“Poetic?” Will interjected, “Beautiful?”

“Exactly,” Draco admitted. “How can I admire this creative display of cruelty if I don’t understand it?”

Will nodded appreciatively and said, “These are the wicked who felt no camaraderie with their fellow man. They felt no empathy, and only loved themselves. Now they are doomed to only be aware of each other’s presence but have no lingering sense of identity. They have become like the fungus that feed on their flesh.”

“You see?” Draco insisted. “Is that not sublime?”

“You almost seem to be changing your tune in regards to the gods.”

Draco tossed his head to the side and said, “I think I’m coming to understand them. Perhaps I am learning empathy.”

“Then this is not where you will be either.”

They reached the other bank and disembarked.

“We haven’t found a place yet where I could fit in,” Draco remarked. “They might have to invent a new punishment just for me.”

“Such pride,” Will teased.

“I will demand that they get it right; or I will be personally offended, quite frankly.”

Will cackled.

“Maybe you are more creative than the gods.”

His face showed the same devious interest as Draco had when he asked, “What do you think is the cruelest punishment?”

“I think it would be true hell,” he answered, “To eternally be forced to harm and kill those dearest to oneself, again and again.”

“I see a theme with you,” Will replied. “You believe the pain of the mind and spirit is worse than the physical sort.”

“Physical suffering is endurable if one’s mind and spirit are strong. It is not so the other way around.”

“True,” Will agreed.

“Or maybe they will throw me in Tartarus, with the Titans.”

Will only bit his lip and nodded.

“What is it?” Draco asked. “Why does a psychopomp pale at the mention of Tartarus?”

“Let us stop here and speak to the queen of the furies,” Will said, gesturing to a long, open canyon. “Her mind is obscured to me and I am curious to find what she might think of you.”

“Presenting the oddity,” Draco chided. He chose to drop his previous inquiry.

“Yes,” Will laughed, pleasant color returning to his face.


	4. Chapter 4

At the end of the canyon, they reached a massive palace façade carved directly into the rock. It rose above them in breathtaking splendor. They entered the palace and Draco marveled when he saw the walls. They were embedded with crystals that shone in the light of a host of hanging lamps.

“This is quite beautiful,” Draco murmured. “Is this queen a goddess?”

“She was, once,” Will explained. “A trick was played on her by a consort. He brought her an immortal animagus in the shape of a baby calf and she ate it unwittingly, or so she claims. The gods were so outraged that they cursed her to Hades for a thousand years, with the warning that if she consumed immortal flesh once more she would die instantly.”

“What is a thousand years to a goddess?”

“An indignity,” Will answered. He hushed when he spied a blue glowing from around the corner.

They followed the glow to find the beautiful queen herself lounging on a bed of pillows and drinking wine. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, topped by an opal tiara. Her face and nose were slender, regal, and her eyelids drifted seductively.

“Who…?” she began, and then stared harder at Will.

“I did not recognize you, dear friend,” she said, voice laced with deliberate tranquility.

“Is this not your usual form?” Draco asked him.

The queen sniffed as she sipped her wine, eyeing them over the top of her glass.

“I take on many forms,” Will replied, not looking away from her, “Some of which I don’t think you’d care to witness.”

She cleared her throat.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Draco responded, bowing his head. “I was stricken by your beauty and forgot my manners.”

She scoffed and smiled faintly at Will.

“My name is Draco.”

“Why have you brought a mortal to your realm?”

Draco’s head snapped in Will’s direction.

“Your…?”

“My glimpse of my companion’s destiny is beyond my grasp,” Will interrupted. “I am curious to know what you see.”

“Come,” the queen gestured to Draco. He approached her and knelt before her silken pillows. She ran cool fingers over his head and through his hair.

“Are you reading my mind, My Lady?” he asked with a flirtatious glint in his eyes. “Is that why you touch me?”

“I am reading your mind,” she purred, “But I don’t need to touch you for that. I just like the look of your face.”

“Thank you, My Lady. I’m rather proud of it.”

She smiled and said, “A warrior; cocky, stubborn, irreverent… but not without convictions.”

Her voice trailed off and her mouth pursed. Draco scowled in perplexity as she fell silent.

“I don’t…” she began. “I don’t understand this.”

“I thought something strange when I first saw him as well; almost like… a nocking of an arrow that I already saw strike its target.”

“It would seem my destiny with the gods belonged in the afterlife,” Draco mused.

The queen’s eyes clouded over and she chanted, “Cut out the silver tongue of man who seeks to seduce a goddess.”

Draco cocked his head.

“My Lady, I wouldn’t dare try to seduce you…”

_You aren’t supposed to be here,_ he suddenly heard a faint whisper in his head. It was womanly, similar to hers, but with a serpent-like hiss. _You were not meant to die._

Draco’s eyes widened.

_He’s trying to trick you,_ the serpent voice tickled his ear. _You are still destined to become a great warrior on earth, leading men to victory over their foes. This psychopomp is a demon. He baits you to his lair to consume your soul._

Draco pulled his head back, but she clutched it tighter. He glanced over at Will. The young man’s face showed anxious concern.

_Your destiny lies above,_ the inaudible voice hissed. _Kill that demon now and climb back into your rightful realm._

Draco pushed her hand away. Will’s chin tilted in his direction, eyes still transfixed on the queen.

_Kill him!_ The hiss whined in his ear. _If you value your soul, kill him quickly!_

He and Will exchanged wary glances. He could sense that Will was hearing a voice in his head as well. Their shared anxiety and heightened reflexes were transmitted through the air between them.

“Why do you whisper?” Draco shouted at her.

The queen’s blue eyes cleared and she focused on him.

_Do not alert him,_ her secret voice warned. _He is mightier than he looks. Strike him down while he is unaware._

Draco saw Will’s eyes slide back to her, attention piqued by whatever command she must be giving him.

“One who whispers in two ears is the enemy to both!” Draco growled and drew his sword.

_Don’t be a fool. I am your ally._

“Say your words aloud or be silent!”

The queen’s eyes sparkled. Their pupils began to stretch into slits, and her neck elongated and broke out into spreading green scales. She rose higher and higher until what towered above them was a slender snake. A forked tail whipped from her coils and snapped at Draco. He slashed and chopped off a hunk of it. It wriggled on the floor for a moment and from the serpent’s stump sprouted two more tails in its place. Draco was distracted momentarily by the sight and the queen lunged at him, fangs bared.

An arrow struck against her eye but it was protected by an inner eyelid, clear and impenetrable. Still, it caused her to recoil and Draco stabbed at her throat. The scales on her upper body were equally impervious, hard as diamonds. Will nocked his bow again and scanned her body for any weak spot.

She snapped again and again at Draco, and he was able to block her with his sword, though it clanked impotently against her face and fangs. Her tail flicked at him again like a whip, and the three lashes rained upon him with a sting enough to knock the weapon from his hands. Another arrow flew and managed to lodge in an earhole at the side of her face. She yowled in pain, but it otherwise did not damage her.

Draco pulled his dagger from his boot and grabbed the arrow as she weaved at him, hoisting himself atop her smooth, flat head. He wrapped his legs around her and thrust the dagger downward, but it would not break through her armor and his hand slid down the hilt and sliced open over the blade.

Will dashed to one side and Draco wrestled with her thrashing head as he pulled upward on the arrow. He saw the young man snatch up the chunk of bloody humanoid flesh that lay on the floor, transformed from what had been the snake tail. He scowled for a moment but then realization dawned on his face. He shoved his arm into the side of the queens open mouth and yanked up on her jaw with all of his strength. Her gaping maw yawned upward as he struggled to hold tight.

Will tossed the flesh into the air and it landed precisely into her mouth and slid down her wide throat. The queen plunged downward and threw Draco to the ground.

A gulping, gagging sound emerged from her as she shook her slender head. Her eyes widened when she tasted blood. Her own, immortal blood.

A rumbling, angry wind rose up around them and Draco was nearly knocked off of his feet. Will’s white tunic flapped against his legs as he leaned into it.

The serpent queen shrieked as she began to shrink into her original form. She coughed and held her throat as forbidden flesh burned from within. She fell to her knees and croaked, “Goddess…”

Then her body burst into flames and she was consumed.

Draco stood and watched her corpse grow hard as burned wood and begin to smolder.

“The gods deliver on their promises,” he muttered. He glanced over at his companion, feeling the rush of fighting next to someone whose actions could synchronize with his; the thoughts between them communicated with ease. As the moment calmed, the rush was replaced with desire.

Will still appeared solemn.

“What did she say to you?” he asked.

“She told me I was to be a great leader in the mortal world, but that you are a demon who would consume my soul.”

Will’s eyebrows raised.

“And to you?”

“She said… when men become gods and gods become men, chaos ensues.”

“Why did she want me to kill you?”

Will returned his bow to his back and sighed, “She knew you could not kill me. She wanted you to attack me, so that I might be forced to kill you.”

Draco stood with shoulders slumped, arms hanging at his sides as he stared at the young man in stunned silence.

“It is good that you did not heed her words,” he finally muttered.

Will remained silent for some time before nodding as though his clarity was returning to him and he was once again sure of himself.

“Yes… yes, it is.”

As they exited the cave and trekked up the slate-strewn mountain path, Draco spied the furies with their feathered hair, sharp bird eyes, and winged shoulders peeking over the rocks. Some flew overhead, their clawed feet tucked and bare womanly bodies outstretched.

“They know we killed their queen,” Draco said.

Bombo watched them mount rocks and circle high above, every now and then emitting a warning caw.

“They won’t bother us.”

“Good,” Draco replied, “I must admit that I am exhausted.”

“My home is up ahead,” Will promised. “We can have some food, and bed.”

“I look forward to that,” Draco murmured. He flashed Will a crooked, suggestive grin and Will tilted his head at him with cheeky raised brow.

Draco attempted to predict what Will’s home would look like. Perhaps it was a mere camp inside of a cave; perhaps a beautiful hidden palace lavishly decorated as the queen’s was. When they climbed to the topmost plateau, he found himself surprised to see a warmly-lit home somewhat like a hunting lodge. He realized it seemed appropriate for the marksman. It was surrounded by fields of golden wheat.

They entered and he looked around at the glowing fireplace, soft pillows and furs for lounging, and trays of food already laid out. He took in the attractive platters of smoked and herbed fish, braised eel, mountains of different kinds of bread and cakes, marinated olives, chestnuts, and other fanciful delicacies.

He groaned aloud and it was all he could do to wait for Will’s invitation before he pulled away his armor to nothing but his tunic, fell down on a fur, and helped himself. Will lounged beside the low table.

“This is the most magnificent of all my experiences thus far,” Draco told him, sampling a dried fig.

Will smiled proudly.

“When one does not have to eat for necessity, the focus is on pleasure.”

“If given a choice, I would gladly eat like this every day.”

He slowed his bites and considered how wonderful it was to have such a bounty, and such time to consume it without interruption. He could simply focus on pleasure; very steadily growing full and warm as each individual taste moved over his tongue.

The company could not be improved upon, either. He watched with interest as his companion enjoyed his meal.

When Will glanced up he could see Draco grinning, his eyes crinkled at the corners and shining.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“I realized I had not yet seen you eat.”

“I have no need for creeping worm-lizards. I had the luxury of waiting.”

He took another bite and Draco’s eyes darted over his face.

“You are still watching me.”

“I like the way you eat,” Draco told him. “You open your mouth wide, jut out your jaw just a bit, chew so deliberately…”

“Stop,” Will laughed. “Your table manners are no better.”

“Well, I’m no goddess.”

Will’s smile dropped and he and Draco shared a steady gaze.

“I know who you are,” Draco told him, reaching for his wine. He sipped it, still eyeing Will over the glass.

“Will,” he continued, “The alternate meaning of your name; as in, ‘she who works her will.’”

Will leaned back and cocked his head. The corner of his lips curled and he batted his eyes with languid, drifting lids.

“You are Hecate. You’re a Titan.”

“Formerly,” Will corrected with a glib toss.

“They say you are a woman, but you present to me as a man. Which is it?”

“I’m a Titan.”

“Ah.”

“As I said before, I have many forms.”

“What? The head of a boar, the head of a dog, the head of a horse?”

Will pointed at him with mock accusation.

“So you are versed in religion. Are you, in secret, a pious man?”

“Formerly,” Draco chided.

He made himself more comfortable. He let his eyes drift over Will, lingering on his lovely neck beneath tilted head and lifted chin. The young man’s sleepy gaze was putting him in an intoxicated state. He thought he could smell poppies.

_You could bring out the piety in me,_ he thought to himself.

“I should have known when you stared into Tartarus as a soldier stares at a battlefield littered with the bodies of his comrades.”

“I nearly joined them.”

“But you are one who plays latrones. You do not roll the dice.”

“And you gamble,” Will replied. “I can see you there, smiling as you burn.”

“Life is far too short to wear a leash.”

“No,” Will said quietly. His averted gaze seemed to follow the span of eternity. “Life is very long.”


	5. Chapter 5

The meal had lulled Draco into sleep. He awoke only once at the sound of whispers. His hooded eyes opened to slits and he saw Will curled not unlike a dog among the pillows.

 _So gods do occasionally sleep_ , he thought. He wished to linger on Will’s mild face with his eyelashes resting on his cheeks and the stirring motion beneath his eyelids. The cupid’s bow of his lips was slightly parted. But, he could not relish the image long. His focus blurred and he sank back into slumber.

When he awoke again, Will was kneeling beside him, appearing deep in thought.

“How much further?” Draco asked.

“We are nearly there.”

Draco sat up, arms resting on spread knees. It was now that he realized he did not mind the silences between them anymore.

“I had a dream last night, about you and me,” Will told him.

“Spirits dream?”

“Rarely,” He continued. “We wore very different clothing. We slew a dragon side by side, moving as one mind.”

“A dragon?”

Will nodded and said wistfully, “Wings like stretched leather, scales like red rubies.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It was,” he agreed.

Draco cleared his throat.

“What is this… between you and me?”

He paused and explained, “I don’t mean this shared experience, this journey, even what we feel right now. There is something else.”

Will carefully considered his answer.

“When you think of time,” he said, “You might think of a path moving from a beginning to end on a flat horizon. It is not. It is more like the winding path we took toward the top of this mountain, spiraling round and around. If you were to fall from the edge of one place on the path, you would land on another.”

Draco pondered, eyes narrowed at the bewildering thought.

“Even that is too simple,” Will said, “For there is not one path, but many, branching off…”

He stopped to mark his companion’s confusion.

“Perhaps the mountain metaphor…”

The warrior chuckled and Will continued, “In other words, there is not one mortal world but many. Too many to count and they all spiral and intersect with each other. There is only one Hades, one Olympus. I can see all of this. It is my gift.”

The cozy room transformed into a marvelous temple with pristine marble walls and floor and powerful transcendence. Statues adorned the vestibule and an ornate frieze embellished the entrance, depicting undying figures.

“The immortal world exists outside of time. Out there, on earth, there exists everything at once. There are people who have not yet been given fire by Prometheus. They cower beneath the panoply as beasts, at the mercy of fate.”

As he spoke, the temple changed and Draco saw people lowering their heads and praying to an image of a goddess he had never seen before. She held an infant in her arms and her head was surrounded by light. The baby clutched in his fist a small cross with a longer vertical line. Then, those people disappeared and new ones took their place. The women wore scarves over their heads and the men wore simple hats tight on their skulls. The statues in the vestibule were draped with cloth.

Draco watched the evolution in awe.

“There are people who use that fire to turn water into vapor and propel dark chariots forward at great speed; and those who steal lightning from Zeus to make their homes bright as day in the darkest nights. They have forgotten the gods; so the gods, unable to touch them, abandon them in spite, only to find the mortals do not care.”

“What a perfect world,” Draco said.

Suddenly, crashing thunderous sounds broke out, flames sparked, and shattered marble flew. Their surroundings transformed again and the temple was in ruins. The pillars crumbled around them and the frieze was torn away. Strange people wandered about, holding flashing boxes. Draco fell back on his hands in shock and the image was gone just as quickly. They were back in Will’s home.

Will’s lips tightened as he winced and said, “Why can’t I see you? When I first met you I thought you must not exist, but then why would I know you… know your face?”

He continued, “It is almost as though there is an area of my own reality that I cannot access. That has never happened to me. Even now, with what little I know, I have the residue of a memory that we have met before in another place and time and felt strongly for each other. I don’t know how, but I feel so many things. I feel sentimental. I feel heartbroken. I feel… love.”

Draco did not understand his words, but he knew the undercurrent of emotion. He too had dreamed. He found himself in a small boat guided by a hanging lamp on the mast. He floated on a wide river, crowded with other boats so close that he could conceivably leap from one to the other as they veered down separate channels. He felt an irrational desire to move from his position; an ominous sense that he was on the path to destruction. He wanted to leap back and send himself down a missed channel, but his legs would not move. Most irrational of all, he thought of knocking the lamp to his feet and letting the flaming oil spread and bring him down, because anything would be preferable to this intense, impotent dread.

“If my appeal to Hades is granted,” Draco asked, “Will I ever see you again?”

Will’s response was hushed and solemn.

“I cannot enter Elysium.”

Draco’s face darkened.

Will exhaled as though his thoughts were a taxing weight to carry. He seemed winded. He stood and walked toward a nearby shrine next a deep alcove carved into the wall containing a window. A small basin of perfumed oil contained a lit candle and was accompanied by white linens. The shrine seemed to whisper with the prayers of mortals. Will dipped his fingers in the oil and touched it to his forehead.

“I may need a moment longer to restore my energy before we progress,” he said.

Draco watched Will’s face as the candle cast its glow across his serene features. He looked as celestial as any entity he’d ever seen, and more so. He could imagine himself praying to Will, bowing to him.

He approached the young man quietly and his gaze followed Will’s hand as it ran over his shoulder, smoothing the oil into his skin. He saw his head turn slightly, eyes down but in Draco’s direction.

“I hope you don’t resent me,” he said, “For keeping from you my true identity; for being of the kind you despise…”

At his last phrase, he turned fully in surprise to see Draco drop to his knees.

“On the contrary,” Draco replied.

His mouth opened, moving over words he couldn’t find that would be sufficient. Finally, he managed simply, “I… adore you.”

Will looked over the warrior’s clasped hands on one knee, his awed expression as his face turned upward. His eyes showed the veneration of a saint.

“I do not require this of you, Draco,” Will told him with an embarrassed, throaty chuckle.

“Please,” Draco murmured, “Allow me to worship you; at least while I am still in the light of your presence.”

Will held out his hand, slowly stretching his fingers toward Draco’s lips. The man kissed them and then reached for the basin. He set it on the floor beside him. Then, he took linen and dipped it into the oil.

“May I?” he asked.

Will sat against the ledge on the wall as Draco placed his hands over the sandal laces that wrapped around Will’s leg. He loosened them and lifted Will’s foot to pull the sandal away. Draco held his ankle in his hand as he dragged the linen over it, washing away the dirt of the journey and softening his skin. He removed the other sandal and washed his feet.

Will, who had been tensely leaning forward, began to relax. Draco’s hands massaged over his feet and up his calves. Will’s breathing deepened, his nose flaring a bit as he lolled his head back on his shoulders. Draco began to rub the oil into Will’s thighs, taking the young man’s leg between his.

Will stood and gestured slowly for him to rise. Draco obeyed and waited with basin in hand for his next command. The young man pulled the sleeve of his tunic off of his shoulder and let it fall to bare his torso. The tunic hung low around his hips and his belly shifted with his breathing. Draco dipped fresh linen and began to caress it over Will’s shoulders and collar, his expression and gentle touch deeply reverent. He slid the cloth over his shapely neck and watched it move as he swallowed. The Titan lifted his chin and Draco could see the regal effect in his lowered eyelids and placid, naturally resting smile. When the warrior moved the linen over his belly and hips, Will’s lips parted, upper lip peaking in a lovely bow.

He accepted the warrior’s adoration and turned to let him attend to his back. The oil smoothed over Will’s tight shoulder blades and the indent of his spine down to the curve of his tailbone. Draco leaned close to breathe in the scent of perfumed oil at his neck which mingled with the natural musk of Will’s sweat in his soft, dark hair. Draco put aside the basin and cloth and ran his hands between Will’s lowered tunic and his hips. He pulled the waist down and let it drop to the floor. Will stepped out of the draping clothes and raised his arms, elbows high and hands clasped behind his head. He stood contrapposto as an elegant sculpture while Draco massaged more oil into the flesh of his bottom and over the muscle ridges of his pubic line.

He was now so close that Will could feel his heavy breathing against his ear. He turned to lock eyes with him and nearly grazed his lips against Draco’s. He tested the man’s servitude with teasing near-nuzzles and the warmth that came off of his body that invited Draco to break into frenzied, belligerent action.

Still the man waited. His arousal was plain to see, but his content obedience overrode all.

Will’s jaw stiffened and a satisfied smile crept over his face. He tilted his head and looked his man up and down. Then he backed away and sat upon the ledge again, resting his weight on his hands and jutting his loins forward. His shoulders curved inward as he watched Draco’s silent patience.

He pushed further into the alcove and then lifted his feet to the edge, spreading himself open. Draco’s eyes lowered to find Will’s cock erect and lifted, revealing a pretty vulva beneath. The pink labia parted as he opened his knees further. Draco trembled and his nostrils twitched. Will leaned back, resting on his hand with the other placed on one knee, the lean youthful muscles of his shoulders sloping in provocative nonchalance. He still smiled and gazed back at Draco with a slow seductive blink of his eyes.

Draco dropped to his knees once more in front of him, looking up at Will hopefully. The young Titan nodded and Draco moved between his legs and lightly nudged at Will’s exposed slit with his lips and tongue. He heard Will sigh and then gasp and felt his thighs quiver on either side of his head. He pressed in with more hunger as he lapped and prodded his tongue inside of him.

He brought up his hands, still slick with oil to grip Will’s thighs. When he felt the blossoming and growing wetness under his mouth, he pushed his tongue deeper, in and out of him until he heard Will’s sighs begin to shudder. He brought one finger to Will’s ass and ran it over the rim. As he entered slightly, lubricating the hole with oiled fingers, Will moaned and let himself lean back against the window in the niche.

He buried his hands in Draco’s hair and whispered, “Good… good.”

Draco’s ears, neck, and collar grew hot at the sound of Will’s approval. He probed into his ass and curved upward, dragging his finger in and out. Will bit his lip and groaned. He was now pulling Draco’s hair, holding him between his legs as he rocked his hips into him. Draco wrapped his other hand around Will’s cock and stroked, stimulating every part of him at once.

Will’s toes curled and his heels slid from the ledge so his knees hooked over Draco’s shoulders. The man lifted higher, pushing Will’s knees toward his chest, fucking him with his tongue and fingers as he stroked.

Finally, Will pulled Draco’s head back by the hair and looked at him. Their eyes connected and Draco turned his face toward Will’s arm and kissed.

Will pushed him back and then stood, cradling the man’s head in his hands.

“Undress,” he ordered.

Draco didn’t hesitate. Soon, he had thrown his tunic to the side and stood naked before Will; broad shoulders, light colored fur at his chest and groin, and stiff erection between his legs. Will pushed into him aggressively, leading him backward and to the furs on the floor. Draco’s chest heaved as Will clutched his long hair again and forced his neck to stretch and chin to lift. He could only grunt and gaze in adoration. When Will straddled his lap and took his cock inside of him, Draco emitted a grateful moan.

Will rode him, slowly rolling his hips at first, and then speeding up to a quick and steady cadence. Draco could see spots of light in his vision. His head was airy, his body shivering with pleasure. Will’s cock leaked onto Draco’s stomach as the young man bounced in his lap.

“Will… Goddess… fuck…,” Draco closed his eyes tightly and whispered.

When he opened them again, he was peering into a pair of jet black eyes. Will’s dark eyelashes fluttered and then he widened them again in the throes of climax. Draco’s mouth fell open as he panted and stared into the eyes entirely dark as a horse’s. He reclined enough to glimpse Will’s shoulders as strange spikes began to bud from his soft, shining skin. They grew longer; black and bony horns. He realized more of these were growing out of his back and shoulder blades, as well as two from his mess of dark curls. The horns on his head sprouted into a pair of antlers, and his skin turned the color of long-burning wood as he released a bestial cry and came hard against the warrior’s belly.

He continued to ride him; growling, his cunt growing tight and throbbing in post-orgasm around Draco’s cock. Draco grasped Will by the antlers that protruded from his back and bucked his hips upward into him. Will bared his white, prominent canines before he sunk them into Draco’s neck. The man cried out and came into him.

The two fell back onto the rug, panting and sweaty and spent. Draco watched in amazement as Will’s skin regained its human color and the antlers reverted into his flesh. Finally, his black eyes turned beautiful blue-green.

“You,” Draco caught his breath, “Are divine.”

Will smiled and turned his head to Draco and they kissed in warm embrace.

“Let us stay longer,” Will murmured. “Please, just a bit longer.”


	6. Chapter 6

They held each other until neither of them could bear the looming of the event on their horizon any longer. They quietly dressed each other. Will gave Bombo one last scratch behind the ears and a piece of leftover meat, and then the two set out. Every step that drew them nearer to Hades’ palace felt dreadfully somber.

When Will and Draco finally stepped through the massive corridor, the heavy doors slowly drew open for them. Inside Hades’ court, the god sat on his throne with powerful legs open and hands draped over the edges of the great chair’s armrests. Beside him was another throne, empty. His skin was dark, his face heavy with his thoughts.

“Hecate,” he announced in a thick, bellowing tone. His intimidating countenance softened with a broad smile. “I have been looking forward to your arrival.”

“Hades, King of the damned and the blessed alike.”

“Growing more alike every hour,” he snorted. He turned his gaze to Draco and dipped his head. Draco didn’t bow, but Hades didn’t seem to mind.

“You wish to be reincarnated,” Hades spoke for him. “If you believe you can earn a place in Elysium, you must live a total of three lives to my satisfaction. Are you willing to take that risk?”

Draco looked back at Will. He could see the melancholy in his eyes, the same he felt in his chest. A sort of panic took over him, one that could leave him in despair no matter what he said. He could choose paradise alone, or torment in the realm where Will dwelt. Maybe, from his prison, he could catch a glimpse of his idol. Would that be enough? And what of their talks of gaps in time? Was that what Will predicted; eternal separation?

“I wish to accompany him,” Will told Hades. The god jolted at his words.

“I would like to become a mortal. I will take every risk that he takes, as long as we remain beside each other. At the end, if we are worthy, allow him to stay with me, as a god.”

Draco’s lips parted as he stared at Will in shock.

Hades was no less stunned when he said, “Immortality is not a bridal dowry. We cannot grant it to mere humans, it disrupts our balance.”

“You of all people,” a gently scolding voice emerged from the doorway.

A woman in white moved gracefully across the court floor, garments trailing on the marble, brown skin glowing and hair brought up in tight curls. She took both of Will’s hands in hers and they kissed each other on the cheek as she murmured, “Dear friend.”

“Persephone,” Hades greeted her with open arms. He tilted his head at Draco and added, “My beautiful queen, light of my life…”

Persephone allowed him to kiss her hand as she took the throne beside him.

“And yet you forget me, good husband,” she interrupted, “Or at the very least, where I come from.”

Hades responded coyly, “Ah, but a woman so divine could not be a human. You were obviously placed in the wrong sphere.”

She rolled her eyes.

“These two are in love,” she insisted. “Have a little empathy.”

Hades grumbled. He was caught between refusing his beloved wife and conceding.

“You could make it a game,” she coaxed, leaning toward him. “I know how you love a good mortal epic.”

Hades smiled at her. Then he pointed his attention to Draco and Will.

“I will agree,” he decided. A great rush of relief flowed through them.

“But!” he continued, “On my stipulations.”

“We are willing,” Draco told him.

“If you are to make such demands, you must prove that your love is more than circumstance. You will be reincarnated twice together and you will not know anything about your past life or even remember each other’s faces. If you form a bond of camaraderie, mutual respect, and love, in both of those lives; you will have succeeded.”

The two touched shoulders.

“Your final lifetime will be the most difficult challenge for you, Draco.”

“I have never run from a fight.”

“I have decided to give you the trial that you find the most painful. It is only fair.”

Will’s head dropped.

“Your hearts will yearn for each other,” Hades continued, “But you will hurt each other, again and again.”

“Why will I hurt him?” Draco asked.

“It will be in your nature. You are cursed to bring suffering to those you love.”

“That is a cruel fate,” Draco snarled.

Hades planted his feet and glowered.

“Do you think immortality is a gift between friends?”

The warrior silenced.

“You must win each other’s love in spite of your natures or because of it, or you will both be damned.”

He looked at Will.

“The underworld will have lost her guardian. As you know, she is a sentient entity. When your mortal soul nears its end, she will call out to you from beyond. Hades will seep into the mortal world, altering the fabric of reality. You will believe you have gone mad. This is not by my design. It is the way of things.”

Will’s nerves were on edge. Their future was obscured to him, like text blotted out with ink. He had nothing to go on but faith.

The two lovers locked gazes. Both of them could feel the pull of fate.

“Let us convene with each other, privately,” Will requested.

Hades nodded.

Draco and Will left the throne room and wandered into an open courtyard. Purple aconite and white asphodel sprouted in prim formation and pomegranate weighed heavily with firm red fruit. The two sat on a bench amidst the garden.

“This task is unequal in its consequences for failure,” Draco murmured, “And yet I feel that refusing to take it on would be catastrophe.”

“I feel the same.”

Will stared at the aconite dipping in the breeze, unable to move itself but pushed about by unseen force.

He took a breath and said, “It’s almost as though the two of us are not only outside of time while in the underworld, but outside of that time as well. Our paths are fused together at varying points regardless of where we are, where we go. I cannot foresee a reality in which we can exist apart from each other.”

Draco felt a compulsion tug at him, like the yearning Hades described, and like the same feeling that overcame him in Will’s home. He dropped to his knees before Will.

“I deeply wish to serve you for all of my days. It has been my only wish for this remainder of our journey.”

“I thought you served no one?”

Draco felt the air leave his lungs in a heave.

“That is why I know this is something I must do. This desire is like no other. Tell me what you would have me do, and I will do it, my Goddess.”

The young man tenderly stroked Draco’s face with the back of his hand.

“Draco,” he said, “To you, I am Will.”

Draco smiled up at the only being he ever wanted to worship. He laid his head on Will’s lap.

“Will.”

In the throne room, Hades kissed his wife’s hand again.

“You always know what is best.”

She grinned at him.

“You say it teasingly, but you know it to be true.”

She sat forward when the lovers entered again.

“We have made our decision,” Will told them.

 

In a small hut in a cold region, a woman cried out in her bed. She was covered in blankets from her waist to her neck and a midwife stood nearby holding a basin of heated water.

“He comes quickly,” she said in amazement. “I have never seen an infant so desperate to enter the world.”

“Is that good?” the mother panted.

“It means your pains will be brief, my dear.”

The woman cried out and pushed one last time and the infant emerged. The midwife placed the basin on the bed and pulled the screeching child from between his mother’s legs. The amniotic fluid steamed in the cold air and the midwife hurriedly swaddled him. She placed the babe in his mother’s outstretched arms.

“A healthy baby boy,” the midwife told her. “And look at those eyes. Such life!”

The mother cooed and cradled him against her breast.

“What will you call him?”

“Tristan,” the mother whispered. “His name is Tristan.”

 

* * *

 

Dr. Lecter pored over the notebook in his hand. In it, he had scrawled pages upon pages of mathematical equations and musings on quantum physics. He knew that in his skull resided a meritable mind, as capable as any to grasp these concepts, and yet the answers eluded him. Perhaps it was asinine to dwell on the remote possibility that he could ever turn back time and undo the mistakes he had made in his own life.

He sometimes reflected on the paradox of God; a being who created mankind in his image, but also put in place such cruel consequences for acting on that very nature. Perhaps becoming godlike required an added trial-by-fire. It is regret, he thought, that is the most distinctly mortal of attributes.

Lecter was hardly a man of conscience, but his regrets were stacking. Sometimes at night he would dream of a river filled with boats, some headed down bright paths, others dark. All he had to do was find a way to… no. This may not be the best of all possible worlds, but he had the choice to be king or slave in the realm of his existence.

So why did he feel so enthralled?

There was a way to move beyond the restrictions of space and time. He believed it on a level that had nothing to do with physics. There was something almost spiritual about it, as though he’d learned the secrets in one of his strange dreams but forgot it upon waking. Still, these scribbles could not help him, no matter how desperately he obsessed over them. He had tried to move on without Will at one time. It wasn’t only the pain of a broken heart that plagued him. He had felt that before. It was a deeply unsettling futility, as though nothing else remained for him and not even his fantasies of parallel universes could placate the dread in his heart. For him, he felt, his loss extended beyond all space-time in every conceivable universe, destroying any hope of salvation.

Bedelia had taken advantage of his superstitious thinking. In his moment of suffering, he had believed that consuming Will would bring him relief. How could he be so foolish? Had he not been saved by the accidental interruption, his river boat would be doomed.

He put his notebook away when he saw the lights approaching. Jack was here. Surrounded by the hounds of hell, he came for him; reminding him of his Faustian bargain. He sneered to think that he had become that hapless pawn. And here he was arrogant enough to mistake himself for Mephistopheles. His sneer faded into wistfulness when he realized it had been Will, his beautiful, remarkable Will, all along. He walked toward the hell hounds; their bay the mewling of sirens, their red eyes the light of patrol cars.

Though damnation was terrifying, he was calmed by the knowledge that Mephistopheles would always be nearby. There was no point in preserving what frivolities he had gathered in his lifetime. This went beyond that. If he could not reach Will, all was lost. He would die before giving up. In his soul, he knew that bodily imprisonment was nothing in comparison to whatever the alternative may be. And so, he faced perdition with a placid smile. Perhaps, if his love was kind, he would reach into his torment and pull him out. Perhaps he could even convince him to love him in turn.


End file.
